Manifesto of Pain

This piece was written for a course I took during the fall titled, “A Brief History of Western Thought.” For my midterm assignment I chose to write a manifesto inspired by the life of Lady Anne Conway and her single, yet comprehensive text—The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy.

Manifesto of Pain

“At the end of my suffering there was a door,”[1]and through that door—I declare—is the meaning and worth of our pain. Please, hear me out—for I believe the salvation of our planet depends on it. Smoke fills the San Francisco skyline on a day I expected to be clear and warm. It isn’t until after I begin to feel inflamed and light-headed that I discover what I mistook for a surprise cloud cover is actually the echo of a wildfire screaming through Chico less than 200 miles north. The question, “what’s wrong with me?” is answered as air pollution that invades every respiring creature around.  “My” pain zooms out and becomes ecological, becomes our pain. The question reframes: “what’s wrong with us?” 17thcentury philosopher-heroine Lady Anne Conway offers an answer and means of transmutation by indwelling the question itself. Holding her hand, I extend mine to yours so that together we may lean in and gain clarity through compassion.

It is fitting that Rene Descartes, the boogeyman of Western thought, be supplanted by one of his first major critics. Pulling back the tide of modernity, we invoke the voice of the late, great Lady Anne Conway as the siren to usher in an enchanted world view, synthesizing the old with the new. In her singular, yet comprehensive text, The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, Conway persuades us to consider a story of body and mind that “out-narrates”[2]such Cartesian plot twists as the hard problem and the gulf between the divine and the worldly. We hold that Conway’s perspective has more semblance with lived experience and we base that belief in pain. As a woman, it is no surprise that Conway would figure in as one of the most persuasive opponents of Cartesianism. Menses does not permit as easy a dissociation of mind from body that men may fall subject to. That Conway suffered from an incapacitating and incurable headache condition only amplified her insightful rebuttal. “If one should say that dead matter has metaphysical truth and goodness, to the extent that every being is true and good,” Conway asks, “what is truth or goodness? For, if it [dead matter] shares nothing of the communicable attributes of God, it will not be true or good, and consequently, will be an utter fiction.”[3]Our declaration inspires from her ontology, a story of a cosmos created by and soaked with the vitality of a living God.

Guided by Conway, we “proceed securely in the middle way of truth concerning the nature of substance,”[4]between the dualism of Descartes and the monism of Spinoza. In her innovation, there are three forms of being: the singular, self-subsistent and immutable infinity of God; the metaxic being of the Messiah, between the immutable and mutable; and the mutable being of Creation. God’s personality includes traits that can and can’t be spoken:

The incommunicable [traits or attributes] are that God is a being subsisting by himself, independent, immutable, absolutely infinite, and most perfect. The communicable attributes are that God is spirit, light, life, that he is good, holy, just, wise, etc. Among these communicable attributes there are none which are not alive and life itself.[5]

Descartes’ dead matter becomes a fiction in Conway’s ontology, “for what attributes or perfections,” she demands to know, “can be assigned to dead matter which are analogous to those in God?”[6]None, we declare. Her world-story makes sense of the perceived dualism of body and soul by recognizing them as different shades along the spectrum of Creation as living Spirit, made in the image of a living God.

With the “hard problem” dismissed as mere fancy, we are freed up to concern ourselves with realproblems: ouch, something hurts; my head, it aches from the wildfire echo suffusing the sky I breathe—what of pain? How could the goodness of God subject me to suffering? Conway, like Christ, is an exemplar of how we fellow sufferers ought to hold our woe. Being mutable, the body of Creation is subject to change; time; decay. As self-subsistent being, God’s infinity holds her[7]captive and powerless over our direct salvation, for God can have no real relations. But within each creature is an original shard of perfection, that sliver of broken mirror in my foot goading me toward something more. Besieged by headaches, Conway intensely strove to make sense of and transmute her own suffering. For her, freedom from pain lies in redemption through God’s love, a love that flows simply from the logic of Creation, “for he [God] gave existence, life, and motion to everything and he therefore loves everything and is unable to not love everything.”[8]The drive to cease pain is the “divine law and instinct with which he [God] has endowed all rational creatures so that they will love him.”[9]If we understand goodness, loving God is no strife, for goodness is Conway’s principle reason for love and God is its paragon. Being images of God herself, it is no wonder that God loves us, as love also inspires from similarity. But, one might ask, how is it possible that God could break through perfection to make love real?

As Creation, we know God’s love most intimately through each other. Love between us follows the logic of similarity; though “we include many individuals gathered into subordinate species and distinguished from each other modally,” difference is not essential for us, because

God has made all tribes and troops from one blood…so that they would love one another and would be bound by the same sympathy and would help one another. Thus God has implanted a certain universal sympathy and mutual love into his creatures so that they are members of one body…for whom there is one common Father, namely, God in Christ or the word incarnate…[and] one mother, that unique substance or entity from which all things have come forth.”[10]

Our love for each other is the commonsense of our fundamental unity as one Creation; it awakens us to our origin in God’s goodness, moving us to participate in the immutable through the metaxy of Christ—the first Creature. As the first, Christ the Messiah is the most perfect of all Creatures and can only tend toward greater goodness. For Conway, Christ is the etheric substance joining infinity with time “like a most powerful and efficacious balm, through which all things are preserved from decline and death[;]…in assuming flesh and blood, he sanctified nature so that he could sanctify everything.”[11]

Through Christ the woes of chronic time may be sanctified by the brilliant light of eternity. In Conway’s spectrum of being, sin and suffering are transfigured into ataxia, “or disorderly direction of motion;” in this case, motion away from the goodness of God.[12]My pain is not a final judgement, rather, it is what spells my karmic inheritance in the undulating matrix of matter. The question is less about identity and more about action. In Conway’s example, just as the helmsman steering the ship “is neither author nor cause of the wind; but the wind blowing, he makes either good or bad use of it,” so too are we response-able for recognizing woe as blessing in disguise.[13]Our pain is the key to Heaven on Earth, for, because “torment stimulates the life or spirit existing in everything which suffers…[,] it irrefutably follows that it [the Creature] must return toward the good, and the greater its suffering, the sooner its return and restoration.”[14]

There is a telos in Conway’s story and its motor is pain. Through our response to suffering, Conway declares, “creatures may have the opportunity to attain, through their own efforts, ever greater perfection as instruments of divine wisdom, goodness, and power, which operate in them and with them. For in this the creatures enjoy greater pleasure.”[15]Four hundred years after Conway’s treatise, we find ourselves in the midst of immense Creaturely pain. The threat to Earth’s achievement of complex life forms steepens the longer the human species remains dissociated from feeling the planet. Rather than point fingers at philosophical boogeymen or, on the other hand, pronounce that our species’ rite of passage necessitates the current devastation for realization, we must first open ourselves up to feel the suffering that is in no shortage within and “outside” human civilization. We must feelworld-pain. Hand in hand with Conway, I declare that—until we fully indwell our pain—a vision of divinized otherwise will not come. Will you join me in taking a deep breath of our polluted sky? Is there meaning in the marked brilliance of a wildfire sunrise? The wild iris answers: “at the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death, I remember.”[16]




Conway, Anne. Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy. Edited by Allison P. Coudert and Taylor Corse, Cambridge University Press, 1996.


Glück, Louise. “The Wild Iris.”, Accessed on 9 Nov. 2018.

[1]Louise Glück, “The Wild Iris.”, Accessed on 9 Nov. 2018.

[2]Quote from Jacob Sherman in class on November 9th, 2018.

[3]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, ed. Allison P. Coudert and Taylor Crose (Cambridge University Press, 1996), 46.

[4]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 31.

[5]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 45.


[7]We use the feminine pronoun in reference to God in order to offset the masculine default in hopes of underscoring the utter androgyny and queerness of such a being.

[8]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 47.


[10]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 31.

[11]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 27.

[12]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 58.


[14]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 43.

[15]Anne Conway, Anne Conway: The Principles of the Most Ancient and Modern Philosophy, 66.

[16]Glück, “The Wild Iris.”

Performing Re-enchantment

Dear Friends,

I wrote this essay during the summertime as an expression of the personal reading I’d been doing at the time. I intended to reconcile what I’d learned about the ancient approach to philosophy as praxis with the more speculative gesture toward re-enchantment I’ve entertained. How can I make re-enchantment real for myself? How am I to live? This essay first outlines what kind of ontology might make that possible. Towards its end I begin developing a basic comportment of re-enchantment, one that emphasizes aesthetic appreciation. This is, of course, an ongoing inquiry for me.

I had the chance to present these ideas more than once, with the first talk taking place at Burning Man and the second at PCC’s retreat to Bishop’s Ranch at the end of September. I’m grateful for these opportunities, for they especially help me to integrate (perform) the vision I hope to one day more fully indwell.

I’ve included the video of the latter talk below and the essay itself below it.

Performing Re-enchantment:
The Fourth Wall Has Broken

How    to translate these feelings to you?

I’ll warm up the light temperature, choose a faster shutter speed (this will be slowed-down in post), close down the aperture and keep the light sensitivity low;
I don’t want noise in the image.

Prime my focus on a subject set apart by a glowing outline, backlighting
Yours Truly,


Hitting my mark, I improvise with the script, speaking to the camera, breaking the fourth wall—the wall with which performers construct a fiction for themselves and their audience: This is the vision I manually construct for you, and in calling attention to it, I call attention to your own perception, your own potential to reconstruct a world-image for living. We are, like the machine modeled after our vision, a lens of the world realizing itself. We needn’t see byway of automatism, autofocusing and adjusting according to preset values dictated by our inheritance. “Performing Re-enchantment” is a style of crafting, not theimage of reality, but animage—one among others. Re-enchantment is an image that makes room for other stories, other enchantments. It allows for stories to resonate, but it also makes itself vulnerable to discord. Re-enchantment is an ecological reality, tentatively woven between perspectives in discord, resolution, and resonance. It depends upon a “we” for its composition. It is not an image of solipsism. Against the despot of the absolute and disembodied objectivity, it celebrates the part’s etheric complicity with the larger whole of undulating magic. Even still, it champions the part’s potential for self-creation and calls it to action.

Performing re-enchantment is a way of collapsing the divide constructed between my inside and my outside. It is the practice of tying myself back with the world. Through sense, I fall in love with the world as my own body. It is the way that I make my partial perspective a “truth,” a scaffolding of belief. Performing re-enchantment is my wakefulness to the art of perception. Perception becomes the primary medium, like the manual relationship of camera to world, for stylizing my participation and efficacy in the continuous medium of the ether, the cosmic imagination dreaming all into being.

Performing re-enchantment is grounded in the groundlessness of an aesthetic ontology. Following Matthew Segall in his dissertation, “The Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead,” I think thinking as a special form of feeling. An aesthetic ontology therefore bounds knowledge to the cosmically sensate. As Segall has it, thought has no privileged access outside of space-time, rather,

when we try to peer beyond the cosmos outside us, or plumb the depths of the psyche within us, we find only more appearances, an infinite ingression of appearances. When the understanding tries to reflectively grasp the infinity of aesthesis, it slips into an infinite regression. It fails to find an original ground or fundamental reason for the ongoing aesthetic genesis of the Universe. Only the creative imagination can intuit the meaning of the infinite aesthetic ingression of Beauty’s appearances.[1]

Like the camera, the eye of the imagination is bound to thisworld—to others—and cannot create a pure image of what the world is really like. Rather, as waking dreams ourselves, we are lured toward instantiations of Beauty for “truth,” those mysterious, living symbols of intelligibility that confound mechanistic reductionism. For German idealist philosopher Fredrich W. J. Schelling, the order apparent in the bodily synchrony of organisms and human art bespeaks the larger etheric undulation of universal organism. But rather than declare this ontology absolutely, Schelling more modestly postulatesthe ether as “the first principle of the universal dualism of nature.”[2]I draw attention to the word “postulates” because, as Keith R. Peterson explains,

the discussion of the “postulate” in Schelling is meant to emphasize the deliberate collapse of theoretical into practical philosophy, or the mediation of all theory by practice, typical of the post-Kantian tradition. This is critical with reference to Schelling’s philosophy of nature, because unless it is seen as an attempt to reground science itself in the soil of practical philosophy, it will be (and has been) viewed at best as merely another narrative, myth, or story about nature.[3]

Schelling’s replanting of theoretical philosophy back in the dirt of the practical from which it arose effectively restores mind to body, soul to world—the relationship par excellence of dipolarity. It is a move that leads Segall to classify Schelling as a descendental philosopher, implying the genetic and this-worldliness of his epistemic approach.  In contrast to the eminent transcendental philosopher himself—Immanuel Kant—Schelling accepted that the critical turn in philosophy ultimately reveals the human mind’s codependence with a world for the birth of knowledge. This is what leads Schelling to postulate his notion of “original forces”—or the expanding and contracting dipolarity of universal organism—“not as absolute explanation, but [as] limit concepts” which allow the explanation of “all phenomenon empirically, that is, from the reciprocity of diverse matters.”[4]With the theoretical returned to actual experience, philosophy can no longer be understood as a neutral activity, rather, to philosophize is to act.

The dipolar dynamism of Schelling’s universal organism finds an analog in the process philosopher Alfred North Whitehead’s concept of creativity. But the similarities go deeper; as Segall writes, “the [descendental] philosophies of Schelling and Whitehead can evidently be understood to orbit around a common intuition, namely that the conceptual division opposing objective reality to subjective ideality can be healed only through an aesthetic act of creative imagination.”[5] Despite their affirmation of creative philosophy, neither Schelling nor Whitehead would support a vacuous relativity where any story goes. Rather, the very structure of story—with its organs of (at least) teller and listener, time and space—calls for the coincidence of perspective and world. For Schelling, Peterson explains, this means that “nature philosophy is not merely another “representation” of a nature to which human beings maintain only a distant and instrumental relation,” bug is rather intrinsic to human experience and thus “the first postulate of philosophy must express the dynamic synthesis of self and world…as an ontological unity from which both terms are derived.”[6] All logos is therefore genetic logos. Unlike Kant, who, to save science from belief and freedom from mechanism, stamps the human subject with exclusive rights to the codex of knowledge, Schelling maintains that the latter relies upon an agreement. That agreement is the unity-in-dipolarity animating the larger dynamism of Schelling’s universal organism. “[To Schelling] self and world,” Peterson tells us, “are of one substance, and we will continue to misunderstand ourselves and undervalue the natural world unless this ontological identity is expressed philosophically.”[7] This is the gist of the term re-enchantment as I use it here, an image for seeing the world and its composition of perceiving creatures as continuous.

If our very subjectivity, like a skipping rock rippling across a pond, is continuous with the world and has affect—makes waves—then accepting this makes all the difference. It means that the images we have of ourselves and the world matter. Schelling’s commitment to creating an image that honors the relationship between self and world has special relevance for the contemporary moment in its crisis of belief. Threatened by the specters of “alternative facts,” climate science skepticism, and the rise of charismatic demagogues, the main character in the crisis of belief is the King, objectivity. The controversy? An unveiling—an image has surfaced of objectivity caught in intimacy with the world. Its reputation stained, objectivity can no longer pretend to be above and beyond the commons. Society scrambles—who to believe? Who holds the image of Truth?

During a time when primary and secondary qualities collapse, artists—those spellcasters of the sensual—have much to contribute to the re-visioning of objectivity. Writing in her 1968 compendium of theory, The Novel of the Future, literary artist Anaïs Nin suggests that “the only objectivity we can reach is achieved, first of all, by an examination of our self as lens, as camera, as recorder, as mirror. Only once we know its idiosyncrasies, its areas of prejudice or blindness can we proceed to relate with others.”[8] In Nin’s vision, the transfiguration of objectivity makes it something to be achieved, a goal that inextricably includes others. For the practice of science, philosopher-witch Isabelle Stengers defines objectivity as “the creation of a situation enabling what the scientists question to put their questions at risk, to make the difference between relevant questions and unilaterally imposed ones.”[9] The notion of objectivity as achieved and relational repeats. Stengers continues, saying “objectivity thus depends on a very particular creative art, and a very selective one, because it means that what is addressed must successfully be enrolled as a “partner” in a very unusual tangled relation.”[10]In Stengers view, the practice of science resembles an artful dialogue. Scientists translate back and forth with other cosmopolites, whether they be subatomic particles or the Earth’s undulating ocean, and between them something new is born. Knowledge, but a tentative, metaphoric kind that never ceases uncurling question marks. Facts that are living, evolving, dying. Objectivity reborn as a living, breathing lovechild. Why should the stories we tell be sensitive to this newborn creative, intersubjective objectivity? The threat of ecological collapse signaled by climate change, mass extinction of species, and the displacement of human beings already suffering from symptomatic natural disasters has made the interdependence of Earth systems explicit. Lines between “me” and “we” blur. Philosophers of science like Stengers take their cue, re-storying theory and practice in lieu of radical interconnectivity.

Stengers is especially inspired by the rhizomatic thinking of Deleuze and Guattari in their revelation of the assemblage,or the larger networks we as individuals are always already a part and formed by. One of her exemplary human models in the purview of the assemblage is the practitioner of magic—the witch:

What the witches challenge us to accept is the possibility of giving up criteria that claim to transcend assemblages, and that reinforce, again and again, the epic of critical reason. What they cultivate, as part of their craft (it is a part of any craft), is an art of immanent attention, an empirical art about what is good or toxic—an art which our addiction to the truth has too often despised as superstition.

Aesthetic ontology is resident in the word “witchcraft” as a subversive practice of recreation. What we, whether artists, scientists, or philosophers, are to learn from the witches is how, foremost, “to be compromised by magic.”[11]This comes from an essay by Stengers titled “Reclaiming Animism,” in which she reclaims the former term along with magic to revise our basic sense of intentionality. As a prescient example, Stengers describes writing “as an experience of metamorphic transformation. It makes ones feel that ideas are not the author’s, that they demand some kind of cerebral—that is—bodily contortion that defeats any preformed intention.”[12]Writing is no longer a rendering of the ideas that are mine, not an expression of only mycreativity, but is rather the expression of powers feeling through the unique nexus point of “me.” The same goes with reading and interpretation; what counts now as objective truth is much more fragile, more precious—a diplomatic achievement between a particular group in peer review, a “we” that includes nonhumans.

Rather than craft understanding with concept-images like Deleuze and Guattari’s “assemblage,” Stengers prefers the reclamation of the word “magic” from its trivialized status as mere metaphor, for it has protected our human intentionality from “the experience of an agency that does not belong to us even if it includes us, but an “us” as it is lured into feeling.”[13]Instead of pretending that there indefinitely exists some means of explaining away the experience of being moved by something, Stengers proposes we “forfeit this protection in order to relieve ourselves of the sad, monotonous little critical or reflexive voice whispering that we should not accept being mystified.”[14]The impulse of reason to reduce and reveal is recast as a powerful, inherited craft of magic animating human perception, hypnotizing its subjects with images that separate soul and world. Art, philosophy, science, history—all practices of sense-making, recast and reclaimed as magical arts of participation in the universal dreaming.

Etymologically, enchantment roots back to the Latin incantare, to in­­-sing. Feeling “back” through space-time, the word carries a translation of bewitchment, a means of singing a rhythm-image to sway others into dancing along. A certain song called disenchantment has prevailed over much of human perception, one that translates an image of soul as human-exclusive-meaning-seeker ina world that is ultimately meaningless. It is what allows for the capitalist delusion of unlimited Earthly resources and the myopic destruction of life systems. It atrophies feeling, is anesthetic. Re-enchantment is a song that rouses its hearer to sensation, like the epiphanic touch of art. It is a style of phenomenology, or “a reflexive awareness of perception.”[15]

Images of re-enchantment recast the self-evidence of ordinary “perception” into “a disciplined, stylized and creative expression of the world…[a] reflexive, situated, engaged expression of the truth of being within being.”[16]A camera on manual with special attention given to the aesthetic arrangement of the image. “Aesthetics,” Anaïs Nin says, “was [originally] an expression of man’s need to be in love with his world.”[17]Living is an artistic practice all its own and for Nin, the artist’s role in society is thus essential. As image maker (whether sonic, pictoral, or sculptural) the artist’s role is to shake up the habitual by shocking others into a renewal of perception—what Nin takes as the basic function of art. The artists of a given culture are therefore “responsible for our image of the world, and our relation to others.”[18]But not just any image goes, rather, the exemplary artist is a poetic one who aspires to make us fall in love with the world via Beautiful images. This achievement requires a level of insight and self-discipline that is a function of an artist’s own self-examination. “The artist,” Nin says, “is aware of his self. He is aware that it is more than his self, that it is at once his guniea pig for experiments, his potential tool, his instrument, his camera, to be nourished, his medium.”[19]

Though disenchantment has reigned over the modern period, robbing world of soul, perceiving (unselfconsciously) as a self over and against the world is perhaps basic animal instinct.Indeed, Hadot confirms that even philosophers of antiquity suspected this, for then too it was understood that “we must separate ourselves from the world qua world in order to live our daily life…[and thus] must separate ourselves from the “everyday” world in order to rediscover the world qua world.”[20]There is thus an older image to reclaim, one dreamed by the cosmic imagination before becoming lucid of itself, before the invention of the cell membrane. To break through the fourth wall, we must become aware of our perceptual palette. What colors do we unconsciously paint the world with? Translating her own insight into the waking dream, Nin describes how

we carefully observe and watch the happenings of the entire world without realizing they are projections of our inner selves. What we are watching outside is a representation, a projection of our inner world into the universal. There is no distinction… It seems to me that such a view is far more reassuring than that of considering the world as completely insane, absurd, or else ourselves insane or meaningless…You can only dispel the nightmare by awareness that it is our personal nightmare, projected on a multiscreen cinerama.[21]

Like the artist, the philosopher has been translated as a “stranger to the given.” Inspired by Pierre Hadot’s translations of ancient Greek philosophy, Adam Robbert describes philosophy as a practice and performance of perceptual reconfiguration, a wayof“enacting a shift in the phenomenological display, re-inscribing it with a new arrangement of meaning and significance.”[22]The so-called “side view” or praxis view of philosophy implies askēsis, or the practice of constructing a relationship to oneself by differentiating “oneself from the repetitions of the past, making explicit what were previously orderings in action and perception.”[23]The road to re-inscription is lifelong, for the self-duplication of askēsis implies a move away from pedagogy to psychagogy, what Ed Cohen—following Michel Foucault—describes as an “ontology of the present.”[24]Similar to aesthetic ontology, pychagogy concerns the soul with questions immediate to perception. The double within me is Socrates resurrected, leading me to the “true life” through a dialectic that ends only in death. I am my own lantern. Truth-telling becomes a craft that requires de-cision from the realm of possibilities. It means differentiating ourselves from the self-evidence of ordinary perception, turning the dial on our cameras from automatic to manual. Like witches, philosophers craft with magic, but cast spells foremost over themselves. They perform their spells and, like artist’s and their images, inspire others to fellow-feeling by their very being. They manually adjust themselves as cameras and are the living images they capture. I am before the camera, speaking to you, breaking the fourth wall.

Re-enchantment is the performance of a certain song that stories an image of reconciliation, an image that is—as Hadot would translate it—essentially philosophical: “in all schools [of classical Greece] – with the exception of Skepticism – philosophy was held to be an exercise consisting in learning to regard both society and the individuals who comprise it from the point of view of universality.”[25]Hadot does not attempt to interpret classical Greek philosophy for systematic consistency, but instead focuses on the practical nature of its discourse:

discourse was not systematic because it wanted to provide a total, systematic explanation of the whole of reality. Rather, it was systematic in order that it might provide the mind with a small number of principles, tightly linked together, which derived greater persuasive force and mnemonic effectiveness precisely from such systemization.[26]

For Hadot, ancient philosophers treated discourse as one exercise among others in soteriological spiritual practice. Aesthetics were therefore given special attention. Especially for the initiate, discourse may act as the guardian of the threshold, snowballing into a reciprocal causality where practice and discourse blur into one. This is the essence of virtue epistemology, a way of knowing that honors “noncognitive accessibility conditions for what remains genuinely cognitive insights.”[27]Indeed, as Segall outlines in his dissertation, bridging Kant’s centuries-wide chasm between soul and world requires an imaginative act—what, for those reared by a world-image of dualism, may feel like a leap of faith. For the sake of more interesting propositions, for the soul of the world, I release my grasp on capital T-truth, leap, and freefall into the bottomless rabbit hole of aesthetic ontology. The only way beyond the correlation is through it. Casting a spell of symbolic reference, Whitehead’s space-time synthesizing mode of perception which can either maintain orcreatively disrupt perceptual habits “in favor of alternative imaginations in the flow of etheric space-time,”[28]Segall conjures a voluntary organ called the etheric imagination:

Only with etheric imagination can the process philosopher intuit the formative forces flowing through the natural world beneath or withinits outward sensory surfaces. Such an imaginative thinking represents the individual’s discovery within themselves of the etheric forces of Natura naturans, the inner dimension of Nature that is always in dynamic tension, sloughing off external Nature (Natura naturarata) like a snake shedding its skin.[29]

Etheric imagination is a particular form of symbolic reference, a particular configuration of the manual settings on my camera. But this is where camera metaphor breaks down, for in this ontology there are no fixed and final settings for perception to exhaust.

Reclaiming philosophy as a magical art, I recreate from my inheritance a book of spells for reconciliation. I call my craft “Performing Re-enchantment.” Turning round with the latest wave of ritual, characterized by its overcoming of “the putative duality between constructive and realist approaches,” I align my praxis with Jacob Sherman’s suggestion that we begin to think with, rather than about, ritual.[30]My metaphorical comparison of the camera to human perception breaks down, but its true limitation lies in the imagination of the human perceiver. It is the enchantment I perform which determines my interpretation, and here the notion of performance takes the stage, for its cameo has everything to do with the possibility of otherwise. The aesthetic ontology I freefall through does not permit any finality of self-image. The mystery of me only shines forth through my Beauty, the divinity of we hidden in plain sight. “Performance,” says João Florêncio, “is the way in which all bodies, human and nonhuman, play themselves to one another whilst always holding something back, like some bearer of divine secrets.”[31]“All the world’s a stage,” says Shakespeare. We are on stage performing, translating across the undulating space-time ether of perceivers. Florêncio moves through the correlation, and with the logic of objected-oriented ontology, affirms the always-withdrawn aspect of a being-thing. Like Nin, Florêncio connects art with the renewal of perception and extends the possibility beyond its province to the everyday. To call attention to performance is to hyperbolize it, and in doing so, foreground that“the being of a performing body is always more than—and therefore, never exhausted by—any of the phenomenal bodies or roles it might perform at any given instance.”[32]A being’s mystery shines out to us, disrupting our preconceptions and plunging us into its depth of possibility, its participation in the whispering of Beauty. Both Florêncio and Segall consider this way of aesthetically responding to have import for a politics that represents more than just the sanctity of human beings. “Beauty,” Segall says,

points the soul to the profound erotic current hidden in the life of all things. They [Schelling and Whitehead] saw that imagination, the generative matrix and communis sensusof the animate universe, helps to remind the individual soul of the immanent divine Eros holding all things together in Goodness. The ancients knew this Eros as a function of the anima mundi, the world-soul. The practical imagination that grasps Beauty as an expression of the Good allows the self to place itself in the position—body and soul—of others, and indeed of all others, that is, of the All.A redeemed imagination can empathically identify with any ensouled part of the universe and also with the soul of the whole universe. It does so through the power of Love.[33]

To hyperbolize performance is to perform performativity. It is the declaration of divine imagination reclaimed; a re-enchanted, active storytelling of otherwise. I am before the camera, speaking to younow, breaking the fourth wall, beholding you in all your strange Beauty.

Though the term “Anthropocene” speaks loudly of the human, it is paradoxically a time when I, as human being, am privy to scientific evidence which shows just how much my organism is comprised and constituted by nonhumans. Tracing the 20thcentury’s progressive externalization of psychopathology from intra and interpersonal origin, to larger social forces of culture, and, finally, to the ecological or cosmic, James Hillman senses a re-visioning of subjectivity. “The world,” he tells us, “because of its breakdown, is entering a new mode of consciousness: by drawing attention to itself by means of its symptoms, it is becoming aware of itself as a psychic reality.”[34]Like the cry of a wound seeking tenderness, ecological collapse is understood by Hillman to be a cry of the world soul, the anima mundi. His way of pointing to the world soul also reveals the practicable way to meet it. “Let us imagine,” begins Hillman,

the anima mundi as that particular soul-spark, that seminal image, which offers itself through each thing in its visible form. The anima mundi indicates the animated possibilities presented by each event as it is, its sensuous presentation as a face bespeaking its interior image—in short, its availability to imagination, presence as a psychic reality.

Like Segall, Hillman prescribes the recuperation of imagination as the communis sensus, or common sense:

Lodged in and around the heart,” the communis sensus unites sensation and imagination in the act of aisthesis—the Greek term for perception. Perception for the Greeks was tantamount to “breathing in or the taking in of the world, the gasp, “aha,” the “uh” of the breath in wonder, shock, amazement, an aesthetic response to the image (eidolon) presented.[35]

Aisthesis, the initial, sensual astonishment that precedes the process of creating knowledge. Performing re-enchantment requires one to either be or become aesthetisized—sensitized through the movement of Love: in order to “grasp the Greek account of perception,” writes Hillman, “psychology must already, as did Psyche in Apuleius’s tale, stand in the temple of Aphrodite, recognizing that each thing smiles, has allure, calls forth aisthesis.[36]The proliferation of consumer options and the cheapening of production has led to a devaluation of cultural things that equals the devaluation of the larger ecological community. Sensual valuation as a common good is exploited for the sake of addictive spending. Otherwise, it is mostly atrophied. But, if consciousness advances “by means of pathologized revelations through the Underworld of anxiety,” as Hillman suggests, we have a lead. For, as he continues, “our ecological fears announce that things are where the soul now claims psychological attention.”[37]

So far, the spells of my praxis for “Performing Re-enchantment” include reclaiming the organ-muscle (the heart) of etheric imagination and exercising it through aisthesisto meet the soul of the world in every incarnate thing—conceptual and physical. It involves the invocation of Aphrodite for the capacity to aesthetically respond—to see Beauty and sense soul. “Beauty,” Hillman explains, “is simply the manifestation, the display of phenomena, the appearance of the anima mundi…Beauty is an epistemological necessity; aisthesis is how we know the world. And Aphrodite is the lure, the nudity of things as they show themselves to the sensuous imagination.”[38]The training regimen for shifting my “phenomenological display” hinges on crafting well in the sensual world: “the cognitive task will shift from the understanding of meaning to a sensitization to particulars, the appreciation of the inherent intelligibility given in the qualitative patterns of events.”[39]My spell book is therefore written with a precision that honors particularity. For the soul of the world, I usher in a personal revolution of adverbs and adjectives to succeed the “ascetic puritanism” of my inheritance as an American academic. We are simply balancing primary qualities with the lushness of the “secondary.” Rhetoric returns—rising over the hill—a flower-bearing hero.

Practices of expansion and contraction complement my sensual apprehension of soul in thing and world. I thank my ancestors as models for these spells, and, following Hadot’s assertion that “each generation must take up, from scratch, the task of learning to read and to re-read these “old truths,” feel emboldened to recast them anew.[40]Like Goethe and the ancients before him, I magic in myself a delimitation to the present and become “aware of the inner richness of the present, and of the totality contained within the instant…[I] swell to fill the dimensions of the world.”[41]I experience what Raimon Panikkar calls “tempiternity,” like Schelling’s restricted infinity within which all the moments of particularity Beautifully whisper their participation in the eternal. This moment, an Epicurean gift! Oh, Aphrodite, pray I meet it well! Value is restored to all matter and I am not so lonely without other humans around. Rather, this is intimacy recast, a spell to break the curse of anesthesia for more than my personal salvation, because “my” salvation is now the world’s. Delimiting the present—contracting and expanding—means to be ever-always “held in an enduring intimate conversation with matter.”[42]

My last spell is especially for you—my song. I sing it in the polis, intending for the vibrations to translate an enchantment for a cosmopolis. It is a poetry of physics for awakening to “the very fact that we are perceiving the world, and that the world is that which we perceive.”[43]As a performer of re-enchantment, I sing the whole cosmos as my body, streaming through the nexus point of “me” as feelings that create an image—what I call “my” experience. Taking care of “me” means taking care of we—you. Re-enchantment is my de-cision, but my performance is foremost one of psychagogy—a provocation to life lived otherwise. “What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition. You shall stand by my side and look in the mirror with me.”[44]The fourth wall has broken.


Cohen, E. “Live Thinking, or the Psychagogy of Michel Foucault.” Differences 25, no. 2 (2014): 1-32. doi:10.1215/10407391-2773418.

Davis, Duane. “The Art of Perception.” In Merleau-Ponty and the Art of Perception, edited by Duane Davis, 3-53. State University of New York Press, 2016.

Nin, Anaïs. The Novel of the Future. Durham: Duke University Press, 1968.

Florêncio, João. “Encountering Worlds: Performing In/As Philosophy in the Ecological Age.” Performance Philosophy 1 (2015).

Hadot, Pierre, and Arnold Ira. Davidson. Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Oxford: Blackwell, 1995.

Hillman, James, and James Hillman. The Thought of the Heart ; And, the Soul of the World. Woodstock, CT: Spring Publications, 2014.

Robbert, Adam. “The Side View: Hadot and Sloterjidk on the Practice of Philosophy.” Cosmos and History: The Journal of Natural and Social Philosophy 13, no. 1 (2017).

Schelling, F. W. J. “On the World Soul (Extract).” Edited by Robin Mackay. Collapse: Philosophical Research and Development VI. England: Urbanomic January 2010): 66-95.

Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Von, and Keith R. Peterson. First Outline of a System of the Philosophy of Nature. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004.

Segall, Matthew T. “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead” PhD diss. California Institute of Integral Studies, San Francisco, 2016. Retrieved from

Sherman, Jacob. “Postscript: A New Ritual Turn?” International Journal of Philosophy and Theology 79, no. 3 (2018): 341-47. doi:10.1080/21692327.2018.1474323.

Stengers, Isabelle. “Reclaiming Animism.” e-flux # 36. July 2012.

Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. 150th Anniversery ed. New York: Penguin Books, 2005.

[1]Matthew Segall, “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead” PhD diss., (San Francisco: CIIS, 2016), retrieved from, 77.

[2]Friedrich W. J. Schelling, On the World Soul (Extract),” Collapse: Philosophical Research and Development VI, (Urbanomic, England, 2010), 85.

[3]Friedrich W. J. Schelling, trans. Keith R. Peterson, First Outline of a System of the Philosophy of Nature (Albany, State University of New York Press, 2004), xiv-xv.

[4]Schelling, “On the World Soul (Extract)”, 79. My emphasis.

[5]Segall, “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead,” 26.

[6]Schelling & Peterson, First Outline of a System of the Philosophy of Nature, xv.


[8]Anaïs Nin, The Novel of the Future(Durham, Duke University Press, 1968), 36.

[9]Isabelle Stengers, “Reclaiming Animism,” e-flux #36 (July 2012), retrieved from

[10]Stengers, “Reclaiming Animism.”





[15]Duane Davis, “The Art of Perception,” in Merleau-Ponty and the Art of Perception, ed. Duane Davis (New York: State University of New York Press, 2016), 7.

[16]Davis, “The Art of Perception,” 10.

[17]Nin, The Novel of the Future, 197.

[18]Nin,The Novel of the Future, 192.

[19]Nin, The Novel of the Future,37.

[20]Pierre Hadot, trans. By Arnold Ira. Davison, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault (Oxford, Blackwell, 1995), 258.

[21]Nin, The Novel of the Future,30.

[22]Robbert, “The Side View: Hadot and Sloterjidk on the Practice of Philosophy,” 9.

[23]Adam Robbert, “The Side View: Hadot and Sloterjidk on the Practice of Philosophy,” in Cosmos and History: The Journal of Natural and Social Philosophy, Volume 13, no. 1 (2017), 5.

[24]Ed Cohen, “Live Thinking, or the Psychagogy of Michel Foucault,” in Differences, vol. 25, no. 2 (2014), 18.

[25]Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault,242.

[26]Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault,267.

[27]Jacob Sherman, “Postscript: A New Ritual Turn?,” inInternational Journal of Philosophy and Theology, vol. 79, no. 3 (2018), 5.

[28]Matthew Segall, “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead,” 230.

[29]Matthew Segall, “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead,” 18.

[30]Sherman, “Postscript: A New Ritual Turn?,” 5.

[31]João Florêncio, “Encountering Worlds: Performing In/As Philosophy in the Ecological Age,” in Performance Philosophy, vol. 1 (2015), retrieved from

[32]Florêncio, “Encountering Worlds: Performing In/As Philosophy in the Ecological Age.”

[33]Matthew Segall, “Cosmotheanthropic Imagination in the Post-Kantian Process Philosophy of Schelling and Whitehead,” 55.

[34]James Hillman, The Thought of the Heart; And, the Soul of the World(Woodstock, Spring Publications, 2014), 97.

[35]Hillman, The Thought of the Heart; And the Soul of the World,107.

[36]Hillman, The Thought of the Heart; And the Soul of the World, 109.

[37]Hillman, The Thought of the Heart; And the Soul of the World, 111.

[38]The Thought of the Heart; And the Soul of the World, 113.

[39]The Thought of the Heart;And the Soul of the World, 112.

[40]Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, 108.

[41]Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, 232.

[42]Hillman, The Thought of the Heart; and the Soul of the World, 122.

[43]Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, 253.

[44]Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (New York, Penguin Books, 2005), 14.